


Cookie Dough and Cake Batter

by LadyRazorsharp



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Rating: M, Thunderbirds are Go! - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 19:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14654556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRazorsharp/pseuds/LadyRazorsharp
Summary: AU-Thunderbirds Are Go-ish universe. John Tracy, MIT Physics professor and black sheep of his billionaire family, continues to explore his relationship with Commander Gordon Grant, an ex-WASP he met in a Cambridge coffee shop one morning in early spring. It's now August, and the two embark on an adventure in baking that ends up taking some unexpected turns.





	Cookie Dough and Cake Batter

AN: This is in the same universe as my GxJ pairing, where they’re not brothers. I was baking one afternoon and this little story popped into my head. Blame Betty Crocker.

  


Cookie Dough and Cake Batter

 

By the Lady Razorsharp

  
  
When Gordon got to John’s house that afternoon, he found his lover in the kitchen, frowning over a recipe book.  In the course of their short relationship, this was new, and Gordon raised an eyebrow at the sight of John amidst glass mixing bowls, measuring cups, and canisters of flour and sugar.

 “For me? Aw, Jay, you shouldn’t have!” He leaned in to kiss John’s cheek, but the redhead didn’t respond other than to grunt in acknowledgement of the blond’s presence. Gordon’s eyebrow rose again, and he moved around the other side of the counter to hike himself up onto a barstool. “What goes on?”

 “I’m making a birthday cake for my brother Virgil.” John turned a page of the recipe book, then another. “He’s got some...specific dietary restrictions, and I’m having a hard time finding a recipe that won’t either end up an inch high or taste like dirt.”

 “What kind of restrictions?”

 John looked up and cracked a smile. “He’s vegan, has been since college.  And all of us are a little allergic to dairy.” He went back to the book. “This belonged to my mom, and her mom before her. It wasn’t written with veganism or food allergies in mind.”

 Gordon lifted the edge of the book and caught sight of the familiar red and white checkerboard pattern on the outside. “Yeah, my grandma had one of those. You’re right; not a single tofu nugget or gluten-free cookie anywhere.” He made a face, telling John exactly how appetizing he thought both items sounded, and John’s expression relaxed into a grin.  “Have you thought about delegating this all-important task to a bakery?”

 “Hmmm.” John shrugged. “I don’t get to see Virg very often, so I thought I’d do something a little special.” He puffed his cheeks out in an exasperated sigh. “Now I’m thinking I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.”

 Gordon smiled into the blue-green eyes he loved so well. “You’re always going the extra mile for everyone,” he murmured. “If you wanna go buy a cake, I’ll never tell.”

 John reached over to smooth Gordon’s cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “I know. You’ve always got my back.”

 “Always and forever,” Gordon reminded him, turning his face into John’s palm. They stood there for a few heartbeats, until Gordon pressed a kiss against John’s skin and stood up with a smile. “Tell you what, let’s hit the local Whole Foods; they’re bound to have some stuff you can use, yeah? Egg-free eggs and all that.”

 “I don’t even like _real_ eggs,” John groaned. “What’s the point of having _egg-free_ eggs?”

 Gordon shrugged. “I dunno, it’s like having milk-free milk.” He shot John a cheeky grin, knowing that very substance was on the shelf in John’s fridge at that very moment.  “Come on.” He picked up the aviator shades he’d tossed onto the table when he came in. “Onward to victory!”

 John’s laugh carried them down the stairs and out to the street.

 *****

 An hour later, the two were once again in the kitchen, this time supplied with the required egg-free substance. John grabbed an apron off the hook on the pantry door and tossed it at Gordon. “Here, eager young space cadet, make yourself useful.” He took an oversized kitchen towel and wrapped it around his own slender waist, tucking it into the back waistband of his jeans to make his own makeshift apron. “I’ll get everything else going, if you’ll read the back of the box and tell me how to use that stuff.”

 “Okay,” Gordon tied the apron around himself, snickering when the hem of the apron hit him below the knees of his board shorts. With his tank top baring his shoulders, it looked almost like he wasn’t wearing anything except the apron, and he sidled up to John with a smoky amber gaze. “Whaddya say, Jaybird? Wanna cook naked?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

 “It’s ‘hack naked,’ and no.” John gave him a turquoise side-eye. “There’s reasons to hack naked; static electricity and all that. Naked cooking, like naked chemistry, has the potential to go very, very wrong.”

 Gordon shrugged. “Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

 “ _No,_ Gordon.”

 The blond blew him a raspberry. “Spoilsport.”

 “ _Anyway,_ ” John gritted, tossing the egg substitute box at his partner in crime. “Read.”

 “Okay, it says two tablespoons equal one large egg.”

“There, now. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” John measured out flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder according to the recipe, then took the box from Gordon to measure out the substitute. “Preheat the oven, will you? Three-fifty Fahrenheit.”

 Gordon snapped him a salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.” He did a perfect parade pivot and took two steps to the oven. “Commencing preheat operation, on my mark: Three, two, one, mark!” He pressed the button, and the oven beeped its compliance. “Preheating underway, sir!” He hiked himself onto the counter, swinging his legs and drumming his bare heels softly against the cabinet doors.

 “Thank you, Commander.” John didn’t take his eyes from his work, but he cracked a smile. He sometimes forgot that Gordon had once been a successful seaman with a promising career, until his hydrofoil accident gave him an honorable discharge at the ripe old age of twenty-one.  Although, John mused, grabbing a rubber spatula out of the drawer at his hip, how could he ever forget? More than once, he’d laid beside Gordon as his lover slept, tracing the long scar that ran down the length of Gordon’s spine, as well as the healed burn scars that crisscrossed his back. Gordon had tried to hide them with a myriad of colorful tattoos, but John’s sensitive fingertips--and lips--always sought them out, telling Gordon without words that the damaged skin never repulsed him.

 Soon, the batter was stirred into a homogeneous mixture, and John stepped back, satisfied that the experiment was a success thus far. “Okay. Now we need some pans.”

 Gordon pushed himself off the counter in restless motion. “I got it. You want the long rectangle, two rounds, or the curvy one?”

 “Curvy one? Oh, you mean the Bundt.” John took the fluted pan from Gordon’s hand. “This’ll do. I like it ‘cause it tells you where to cut.” He grinned. “Plus, all it needs to look nice is some powdered sugar on the top. I don’t _even_ want to try and make frosting without butter.”

 “Damn that Virgil,” Gordon scoffed in mock derision. “Those August babies are so needy.”  He watched in fascination as John wiped the inside of the pan with a glob of coconut oil and then maneuvered the pan with precise motions, tapping flour into every nook and cranny. “Wow, Johnny. You’re really good at this.”

 John smiled. “It reminds me of my mom. I wasn’t into sports like my brothers, so I hung around in the kitchen with her. I think it gratified her to know that at least one of us wouldn’t starve when we got out of the house.”

 “That’s cool.” Gordon sighed. “I don’t remember my mom, but my grandma was an awesome cook. She didn’t bother trying to teach me, I was a mess. Although, I made some chocolate chip cookies with her a few times, the kind you get from the tube.” He laughed. “I guess she figured even I could stay still long enough to make those. Just scoop it out on to the pan and eight minutes later, enough cookies to make one eleven-year-old Gordon Cooper Grant sicker than a dog.”

 John’s heart flipped over. Gordon hadn’t told him much about his younger years, and he knew that the more Gordon shared, the more that meant the blond was opening up to trust. He smirked and put the pan down, wiping his floury hands on the towel, then went to the notepad on his fridge and jotted a note. When he was done, he capped the pen and turned back to his cake making.

 “What was that for?” Gordon smiled quizzically.

 “My grocery list.” John shot him a wicked glance. “Just reminding myself to get a tube of cookie dough the next time I’m out shopping.”

 Gordon spread his hands wide. “Hey, that was a long time ago; I make no promises how they’ll turn out. You have Poison Control on speed dial, right?”

 “I’ll take the risk.”

 “Brave man.”

 “Okay,” John sighed. “I think this mess is about done.” He dipped a finger into the batter and tasted it, rolling the flavor around on his tongue. “Huh, I think this might turn out okay after all. I can’t taste the difference. Can you?”

Before Gordon knew what hit him, John had dipped his other index finger into the batter and poked it between Gordon’s lips.  Reeling in surprise, the blond licked the batter, his heart beginning to skip in his chest as John slowly removed his finger. “Um, I…” Their eyes locked. “I think I need another taste, just to be sure.”

 John reached for another fingerful of the batter and painted a stripe of vanilla batter onto Gordon’s tongue. “How’s that?”

 Gordon wasn’t sure he could breathe, much less swallow, but he managed both. “Sweet...but I think I need more.”

 Now John’s breath was coming in accelerated gasps as well. “We won’t have enough for the cake,” he protested.

 “We’ll go to the bakery later,” Gordon muttered, scooping up a morsel of batter and slipping his finger into John’s mouth. He retrieved his hand and pulled John in for a kiss, and the creamy, sugary flavor flooded Gordon’s mouth as his tongue slipped against John’s.

 “Yeah,” John murmured between kisses. “Virg’ll just have to deal with it.”

 They sank to the tiles, shedding aprons and clothes as they went. On the way down, Gordon grabbed the spatula out of the bowl and painted sugary stripes on John’s pale chest. The redhead yelped at the chilly sensation, then purred as Gordon pushed him back and proceeded to lick the batter off of his skin.

 “Gimme,” panted John, and Gordon laughed deep in his chest as he handed over the spatula. With the flair of an artist, John plied the spatula to the skin between Gordon’s neck and shoulder, then latched his mouth to that spot until Gordon groaned a scorching litany into the sweet-scented air.

 “My turn,” gasped the blond, seizing the spatula and rising briefly to replenish its load of batter. He brought it up, tilting it this way and that in order to drip creamy drops of sweet sludge onto John’s pale belly. When John was decorated to his liking, he bent down to tease his lover’s skin with the tip of his tongue, sending John into a torrent of shivers.

 With a growl, John grabbed the spatula back and pushed Gordon back onto the kitchen rug. Rising up to loom over the blond, John smeared a dollop of batter against Gordon’s erection, grinning as his lover gasped at the cool touch on his hot skin. With a flourish, John tossed away the spatula, then proceeded to bring a symphony of groans and gasps from the man pinned on the floor.

 “Holy shit, Jay,” Gordon spluttered, as John’s tongue sought out every sugary drop. “I’m gonna--Ahhh, st-stop--” He laughed, sounding a little unhinged. “N-no, _don’t_ stop! Uhhnn, _Johnny_ \--” He arched and bucked, filling John’s mouth with more than just batter.

 After a moment, the slender redhead sat up. “I _thought_ that’s what you said,” John purred, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

 “There better be more of that stuff left,” Gordon warned, visibly shaking. “There’s no way in hell you’re getting away from me.”

 John grinned. “Enough to make one Gordon Cooper Grant sicker than a dog.”

 Gordon whooped in raucous abandon as John dipped his hand in the batter and proceeded to splatter it all over himself. With a growl, Gordon pounced on John, sliding on the sticky substance until they were both an absolute mess of sugar and desire. It wasn’t long before John, too, was groaning at the touch of Gordon’s mouth against anything and everything covered with batter. “Gordy...Ahh, G-gordy! Please…”

 “What do you want, Johnny-boy?” Gordon panted. “Tell me. Make sure I follow the recipe for how to drive you crazy.”

 John arched and grimaced. “You’re f-following it to the--oh, _shit!_ \--to the l-letter, _oh don’t stop oh Gordy--”_

 In an instant, batter wasn’t the only sticky substance spilling into Gordon’s mouth, and John howled to the rafters in release.

 *****

 Ten minutes later, both were drifting in and out of a light doze, still entwined in each other’s arms, still curled on the kitchen floor.  John stirred first, kissing Gordon’s forehead before struggling to sit up with a groan. He spent a moment collecting himself, then glanced around the kitchen. “Oh, hell,” he exclaimed, elbowing Gordon in the abs. “Lookit this, Gordo.”

 “Huh? Whazzat?” Gordon rose up on one elbow, rubbing his face and smudging the spots of batter still left on his cheeks. “Oh, shit!” He looked around as his partner had done, but where John was groaning in dread, Gordon collapsed back onto the rug in a fit of laughter.

 The kitchen was, to put it mildly, a disaster. Batter was smeared everywhere, telling the tale of their lovemaking session in clear detail. The fridge, the floor, the cupboards--it was all a mess, and John thwaped Gordon on the shoulder in good-natured scolding.

 “ _Mr. I-need-more,_ ” he groused. “You started this, so you get mop duty.”

 “I did not! You’re the one who stuck your finger in my mouth, _‘Here, Gords, taste this._ ’” Gordon laughed. “I tell you what: Rock-paper-scissors for it?”

 John sighed and tapped his fist on his palm. “One, two, three. Ha! You lose, paper,” he crowed, snipping the edge of Gordon’s hand with finger-scissors.

 “Okay, okay.” Gordon conceded defeat but stole a kiss for his trouble. “I’ll beat you to the shower, though.”

 “Oh, you keep dreaming, boyo.”

 “One for the money--”

 “I’m warning you--”

 “Two for the show--”

 “Gor- _don!”_

 “Three to make ready--”

 John scrambled to his feet, pushing Gordon behind him as he went. Gordon followed, cackling all the way.

 *****

 Some hours later--the bath had proved as much fun as the botched baking session--Gordon shut off the kitchen light and tossed the last dishcloth into the washing machine as he went past. “Finally,” he groaned, flopping onto the couch next to John. “The next person who has a birthday in your family is buying their own damn cake.”

 John, who had been hard at work grading papers as Gordon played Cinderfella, shot him a glance over the rim of his glasses. “Next birthday, we’re not going to make the kitchen look like a batter bomb went off.”

 Gordon grinned. “Ah, it was worth it.”

 It was.”  John went back to grading, but then moved as Gordon changed position to lay with his head in John’s lap. John shifted to hold the paper so it wouldn’t lay on Gordon’s face, and his other hand went into Gordon’s nest of honey-blond curls.

 “I love you, Jaybird,” Gordon murmured.

 John looked up in surprise, then set the paper aside and removed his glasses. “Gordon,” he breathed, but Gordon turned onto his back and put a hand against John’s lips.

 “Hear me out,” the blond continued. “If there was anyone you could ask, they’d tell you that I don’t toss those words around. I mean what I say.” He blushed. “If you don’t feel the same, it’s okay, but I had to get that out.” He buried his head in John’s belly. “I do. I really do.”

 The redhead stroked his lover’s hair slowly, as Gordon’s breath warmed his skin. “I’m happy to hear that,” he said softly.

 “It’s not mutual, though, is it?” came the muffled words.

 “I didn’t say that,” John countered. “Just...this is a big deal for me, too.” One corner of his mouth quirked. “I don’t toss those words around, either. I just need a little more time to get used to the idea.”

 Gordon snaked his arms around John’s waist. “You mean you haven’t thought of a way to break it to your family that you’re in love with a washed-up ex-WASP you picked up like a stray one day.”

 John gave him a gentle thump on the back. “You mean, one day I was minding my business when the universe dropped a great guy into my lap, and I’ve been enjoying getting to know him ever since,” he corrected. “It’s just another move away from the person my father envisioned me to be, and he’s going to be upset.” He shrugged. “My brothers, they’ll learn to deal with it, especially Virgil and Alan. Kayo--that’s our nickname for Tanusha--she’s gonna be thrilled that I’m not going to end up a hermit.”

 “What about Scott?”  The arms tightened. “He sounds scary.”

 “Scott is Scott,” John mused. “He’s trying hard to balance his own life with being a Tracy, and sometimes the two don’t coincide. Then he beats himself up for wanting to be someone else besides a carbon copy of my dad.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how Kayo puts up with him, to be honest.”

 “I hope I get to meet her.”

 “You will. You’ll like her; you’ll like all of them.”

 “Even Scott?”

 John thought about this for a minute. “Eventually, yes.”

 There was a long pause. Then: “And what about your dad?”

 John thought about this for a good deal longer. “I don’t know yet. What I _do_ know is I’m not going to keep you hidden, like some dirty secret.” He smiled down at his lover. “You’re sunshine on waves. You’re the color of the sky at dawn. There’s no hiding either of those.”

 Gordon was silent for the span of a few heartbeats. Several more passed before John realized that Gordon was breathing slow and deep, his face still pressed against John’s stomach. He was fast asleep.

 Tears pricked at John’s eyes. “Goodnight, cookie dough.”

 Gordon stirred briefly, tightening his grip around John's waist. “G’night, cake batter.”

 John smiled and went back to grading papers.

 

\--End--

 


End file.
